


A Clever Facade

by Emmeranners



Category: Pride and Prejudice & Related Fandoms, Pride and Prejudice (1995), Pride and Prejudice (2005), Pride and Prejudice (TV 1980), Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
Genre: Complete, F/M, Family, Fluff, Friendship, Love, Pining, Regency, Regency Romance, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:36:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 19,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25419307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emmeranners/pseuds/Emmeranners
Summary: What if Fitzwilliam Darcy's insufferable pride was really just a clever ruse? What if he only behaved that way to help him separate those who truly cared for his person from those who cared only for his wealth and station? He has found all of his closest friends using this method. Now, he just needs to find his wife. Naturally, the witty, vivacious Elizabeth Bennet catches his eye.
Relationships: Elizabeth Bennet & Fitzwillliam Darcy, Elizabeth Bennet & Jane Bennet, Elizabeth Bennet/Fitzwilliam Darcy, Jane Bennet & Charles Bingley, Jane Bennet/Charles Bingley
Comments: 39
Kudos: 472





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Hello, all! I was blown away by the reception to my first P&P fanfic, so I decided to continue writing. Thank you all so much for your reviews! I hope you enjoy this fanfic as well!
> 
> Also posted on FanFiction.net under the same name if you’d prefer to read it there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please Note: Edwin Darcy is Fitzwilliam's grandfather (a lot of people got confused).

Navigating the  _ Ton _ has never been an easy feat. Edwin Darcy, who loathed being forced away from Pemberley, found himself dreading every new season in town. However, duty demanded it, and a Darcy never shirks their duty. So, every winter, he arrived in London, determined to make his season as short as possible. Still, Edwin was not blind to his fortune. He was well-aware of the fact that many people envied his standing in society, and he himself thanked God that his family didn’t have monetary concerns like so many England. He was, in fact, extremely grateful to have so much money in excess as to be able to help those who did have such issues. In material matters, Edwin Darcy was happy. 

It was his social situation which displeased him so much. Many would question the reason, or lack thereof, behind such a statement. Was it not the wish of every Englishmen to mingle with high society? When asked this question, Edwin could only laugh; for clearly, the person had not met the people considered “fashionable” in town. In truth, he despised being in the company of the first circles. Every person had an agenda. Their only goal was to better their standing, climb the social ladder - and they would dawn any mask required to do so. People of the first circles considered all those who were less fortunate to be beneath them. Rarely were they genuinely passionate about something, choosing only to pursue things that would benefit them - hobbies and people included. 

As one of the wealthiest members of high society, Edwin was fawned over. Men wanted to befriend him, and women wanted to marry him. Of course, none of them cared a jot what he was actually like. They did not seek companionship or love. To them, he was only a very rich man who could be used to raise their already considerable fortunes and help them form more beneficial connections. This disgusted Edwin. He found himself surrounded by people who cared nothing for good character or meaningful relationships. However, reasonably, he knew that not  _ every  _ person could be like that. Surely, even in a sea of pride and pretension, there was some goodness. How was he to find it, though? How was he to know who he could actually trust? The answer came quite unexpectedly. 

Edwin had been having a horrible day. The weather was foul, and the company was worse. The universe itself seemed determined to put him in the worst of moods. Despite his ardent dislike for socializing in London, Edwin always strove to be his natural, amiable self - the person he was in Derbyshire. After all, he did not want those around him to feel as miserable as he did. Today, however, he could not muster up the energy to be agreeable. Instead, he sulked in the corner of the ballroom, refusing to dance. Edwin knew his behavior was uncharacteristic, and the  _ Ton’s _ response to it only added to his ire - they didn’t care. He was being so disagreeable, yet they treated him the same as they always did. Ridiculous! In his mind, someone should be reprimanding him. Yet, Edwin knew they wouldn’t. They didn’t care how he behaved. None of them were willing to take the risk of correcting someone whose favor they desperately wished to win...or, so he thought. 

It was after a particularly dismissive, perhaps borderline rude comment that a young man approached Edwin. Edwin had seen the man before, but most of his knowledge came from gossip. The man, Henry Stills, was rather new to the  _ Ton _ . Being from new money, he immediately became the subject of ridicule amongst most members of high society. As if, somehow, the fact that he worked his way up made him less worthy of his position. Edwin disagreed, as per usual. Much to Edwin’s relief, Mr. Stills never once vied for his attention, so he was more than curious about why the young man sought him out now. 

“I had thought you different,” Mr. Stills remarked, a severe look upon his face. 

“I beg your pardon?” Edwin questioned after his mind finally caught up with the comment. 

“I overestimated your character,” Mr. Stills explained.

With burning curiosity, Edwin asked, “How so?” 

“You have always stood out to me,” he said, stepping closer to avoid eavesdroppers. “I am aware of what these people think of me. I know they think me beneath them...they think most people beneath them. You never seemed to be that way. I always thought you charitable and kind, unpolluted by the pride and conceit of those around you.”

Edwin desperately wished to respond, but the man continued. 

“I can see now that I was wrong. You are no different from the rest. You have spent the entire evening attempting to ignore all who approach you. Those who persist are treated with a level of contempt I did not know you possessed. I must thank you, sir, for showing me your true character. Good day.” 

With that, Mr. Stills walked away, leaving an astonished Edwin Darcy by himself. Never before had Edwin been thus treated, especially not by someone in the  _ Ton _ . Mr. Stills, a man who had everything to gain from Edwin’s friendship, had instead chosen to rebuke him for his poor behavior. Had Stills spoken like that to anyone else, he surely would have been cast out. Edwin, however, had never been more impressed. He had finally found someone who actually cared; someone who would not simply agree with everything he did because of his rank. 

The day after the ball, Edwin called on Stills at his townhouse. The man was rightfully confused, eventually concluding that the wealthier gentleman was there to exact some sort of revenge. Much to his poorly-veiled surprise, Edwin apologized profusely for his behavior, explaining that it was that very behavior in those around him - the insufferable pride and conceit - which had driven him into such a state. After a bit of back and forth, the two men fell into an easy camaraderie, discussing their similar views of the  _ Ton _ . 

“Perhaps you’ve cracked the code,” Stills said laughingly, swirling his glass of brandy. 

“The code to what?” Edwin questioned. 

“To finding those in society who are truly good - and brave enough to stand up for it.” 

“Have I?” 

“Indeed. We must be abominably prideful and wait for someone to call us out on it.” 

The men both laughed, but Edwin soon realized the potential of such a strategy. What did he look for in a friend? Someone of strong character who refused to abandon their morals simply to get ahead in life - someone who would not hesitate to call him out as Stills just did. A person with their own opinions and passions - someone who truly believed in what they said and fought for what they believed in. What a delight such a person would be! And, for the first time in his life, Edwin knew how to find them...he could surround himself with people who cared nothing for his wealth or rank and everything for his character. 

By virtue of this method, Edwin ended up with a small group of friends who were worth more to him than his entire fortune. Most importantly, however, was the fact that this method had led him to his wife. She had admonished him most severely during a country ball, and Edwin was smitten. After an explanation, she admitted that his strategy was rather clever, and a friendship blossomed between the two of them. A year later, Edwin happily married the woman who had become his closest friend. Truly, Edwin did not think it possible to love a person so very dearly. He was proven wrong at the birth of his one and only son, George. George used his father’s technique for himself, and Edwin eventually found himself with a new daughter-in-law, Anne Darcy. She soon gave him another great joy - his grandson, Fitzwilliam. 

Edwin Darcy’s method of putting on a proud facade had resulted in two happy marriages and several life-long friendships. It had also allowed them to, albeit unknowingly, thwart a potential villain. Edwin’s strategy had granted the Darcy family with a far better understanding of character. There were few who could trick a Darcy into seeing them as something they were not. Thus, when George Wickham began to spend more time living in vice than in virtue, George Darcy was immediately alerted to it. In respect to his steward’s memory, he tried to bring the boy back to the path of righteousness. Unfortunately, he was not to be moved, and George Darcy was not to be tricked into trusting a scoundrel. Concluding that nothing more could be done, Wickham was generously given four thousand pounds and was sent to the newly budding nation of the United States to make a life for himself. George Darcy wished he could say that he was surprised when, after only three years, he received news of Wickham, who had been shot and killed over gambling debts in Philadelphia. Though tragic, the incident served to reaffirm the Darcys of their trusted method. 

Fitzwilliam Darcy was determined to follow in his grandfather and father’s footsteps, surrounding himself only with those who truly cared for him and not for his money. At the age of eight and twenty, Fitzwilliam was more than happy with his small group of friends - all he wanted now was the remarkable woman who would pass his family’s test. 

All he wanted now was a wife. 


	2. Chapter 2

Sitting inside the Bingley carriage, Fitzwilliam Darcy found himself eager to reach Hertfordshire. His closest friend, Charles Bingley, had asked Darcy to accompany him to the country, seeking the more learned man’s guidance in running an estate. Darcy readily agreed, always willing to avoid town and spend time with his friend. Much like his grandfather and father before him, Darcy loathed the  _ Ton _ . The people of the first circles were social climbers who greeted the rest of the world with barely-masked incivility. Not to mention, he found them to be unbearably dull. Every supposed hobby and interest was carefully constructed to portray them in the best possible light. Men did not learn philosophy because they enjoyed the knowledge and insight that came with it, but rather, because they could lord over others with their superior education. Women did not learn to play instruments solely for the joy of playing, but rather, because they believed it gave them an advantage over other women. No, the people of high society were scarcely passionate about anything other than gossip. What good was it to befriend people with no interests or opinions of their own? 

The country, however, was another matter entirely. Darcy’s family had taught him that, if he sought companionship, the country was the best place to look. With less of a need to impress, people outside of the  _ Ton  _ were free to pursue their own true desires. More often than not, if a man in the country had learned philosophy, it was because the subject truly interested him. If a woman in the country was a formidable pianist, it was because she actually found pleasure in the art of performing. 

Unfortunately, the country was not perfect. Much like London, it was rife with social climbers, though Darcy could not fault them to the same extent he did those in town. Unlike members of the first circles, many people in the country had a good reason for seeking to marry into money - at least as good as such a mercenary objective could be. Indeed, he could not blame them for seeking financial stability, though he certainly didn’t agree that marriage was the best way to go about it. Darcy’s parents had been very set on one point - marriage is not a business transaction, nor is it charity. He had more than enough money to serve the less fortunate monetarily. A marriage was to be made of love, not pity. It would be a disservice to both himself and his future wife if he were to seal them into a loveless bond. 

Regardless, Darcy knew that, in the country, he was more likely to find the liveliness he sought in people. And, of course, he could not bemoan the presence of social climbers too much, for he would simply use his family’s little trick to avoid making connections with them. 

In fact, Fitzwilliam would have been perfectly content with his present situation if it were just him and Bingley. Unfortunately, Netherfield needed a hostess. Bingley first sought out his eldest sister, Louisa Hurst, as he knew she would be far more amenable to the country than their youngest sister, Caroline. Mrs. Hurst, a woman Darcy found quite agreeable when not in her sister’s presence, was happy to come along and help her brother. Louisa had initially convinced Caroline to stay in town. It proved an easy feat, as Miss Bingley was opposed to the so-called “backwater savages” of the country. However, upon learning that Darcy was also going to Hertfordshire, she changed her tune. Now, she rode along with Darcy, Bingley, Louisa, and Louisa’s husband, Mr. Hurst, unaware that the other members of her party were most displeased with her presence. 

Caroline Bingley was everything Darcy’s family had warned him about - ungenerous, unchristian, and unkind. Miss Bingley looked down her nose at everyone and everything not considered fashionable, and she seemed to delight in mocking those less fortunate than her. For her, the worthiness of a person was directly tied to their wealth. If someone was rich, she sought to ally with them, as it would improve her social standing. If someone was poor, she treated them with a level of disrespect that Darcy didn’t wish to know existed in the human race. In contempt, she rivaled even his Aunt Catherine, a feat Darcy once thought unachievable. On top of all that, Miss Bingley could not be more obvious in her pursuit of Mr. Darcy. 

Or, more accurately, her pursuit of his money.  __

Truly, Darcy could not understand how Charles and Caroline came from the same family. He had met Charles Bingley at Cambridge. Almost immediately, Darcy was struck by his ease and friendliness. While he was certainly impressed by the younger man, he doubted very much that Bingley would pass his family’s test. After all, he seemed far too eager to please - Darcy thought it unlikely that he would stand up to anyone. He was happy to be proven wrong. Bingley had reprimanded Darcy rather publicly for his behavior during a rowing match. The day after, an impressed and pleased Darcy knocked on Bingley’s door, ready to explain himself. The amiable man was surprised at first, but eventually laughed, and Darcy was quickly forgiven. 

Thus, Fitzwilliam Darcy and Charles Bingley became the best of friends. Darcy was unable to convince the ginger to employ the family strategy for himself - Bingley was simply too keen to please. Bingley did, however, recognize the cleverness of such a scheme and was more than happy to aid Darcy when needed. 

Such an opportunity came up soon after settling at Netherfield. Amongst the many visitors was a man named Mr. Bennet, who had invited them to an assembly in Meryton the following evening. Bingley was happy to accept, as was Darcy, though he made sure to keep quiet and distant for the time being. Apparently, Mr. Bennet was the gentleman who owned Longbourn, an estate not three miles from Netherfield. 

Bingley chatted amicably with his nearest neighbor while Darcy attempted to sketch his character. Mr. Bennet was clearly an intelligent man, and it did not take long for Darcy to notice that he found humor in many things. The man seemed to be filled with an ever-present mirth, which was especially noticeable at the mention of his family. Mr. Bennet had five daughters and, based on his tone of voice, a wife whom he found quite silly. Darcy frowned at that. His jests at his wife were subtle enough that Bingley likely didn’t even catch them, but Darcy was still put-off. It seemed disrespectful to talk in such a way about one’s partner. He wondered what it was like to grow up in a home where the parents did not respect one another. What were his daughters like? Their meeting was brief, but Darcy got the distinct impression that Mr. Bennet did not set the best example in his household. 

Needless to say, Darcy was eager to meet the rest of the Bennet family and study their characters. Bingley was, of course, looking forward to making the acquaintance of his daughters. They both knew they would get their wish at the Meryton Assembly.


	3. Chapter 3

Fitzwilliam Darcy could feel a headache coming on as the carriage rocked back and forth through the streets of Meryton. The streets, however, were not to blame for his condition. Darcy was an avid outdoorsman, and he had delighted in far more turbulent rides than this. No, Darcy’s headache was the unfortunate result of Caroline Bingley’s incessant chattering. From the very moment they entered the carriage, she had made an effort to capitalize on his attention. With no escape, Darcy was forced to endure it, his only consolation being several apologetic smiles from Bingley and even some from Mrs. Hurst. 

“I don’t know how we are to endure more than a month here, Mr. Darcy,” she whispered conspiratorially. “The roads are dreadful, and I imagine the company will be worse.” 

“I wonder, then,” began Darcy, “why you came at all. Your brother warned that you would dislike it here, and your sister was willing to act as hostess. You could have stayed in town.” 

Unperturbed by Darcy’s cold response, Miss Bingley replied, “Well, sir, I couldn’t very well leave you to fend for yourself out here. Lord knows these savages won’t hesitate to sink their claws into you.” 

The false sweetness of her countenance, combined with her cruel words, made Darcy almost sick to his stomach. Instead of responding, he looked imploringly towards Bingley. 

Bingley sighed, putting on as stern a face as he could muster. “Caroline, please, you must be more respectful. These people are to be our neighbors, and I have yet to meet anyone displeasing.” 

Miss Bingley only looked all the more irked by brother’s comment. “Oh, of course  _ you _ are pleased, Charles. You haven’t the same great taste as Mr. Darcy and I.” 

Darcy was about ready to jump from the carriage when he finally heard music in the distance.

He took a moment to thank God for having pity on him. __

Belatedly, he also realized that they were late. Not terribly, mind you, but Mr. Darcy detested being anything but punctual. The blame once again fell on Miss Bingley. She was quite determined not to go. When she realized the rest of her party would not be moved, she designed to make them all as tardy as possible. She changed her dress three times and had her maid redo her hair twice before Loisa finally stepped in and put an end to her nonsense. Thankfully, the coachman hurried, so her damage was minimal. Still, it was not exactly the best impression for Bingley to leave on his new neighbors. 

When the carriage rolled to a stop, Darcy was the first one out, unwilling to spend a second more in Miss Bingley’s company. Even from the outside, the cheerful ambiance of the assembly was almost tangible. Darcy allowed himself a small smile before resuming his haughty facade. He was glad the people of Meryton were having a more enjoyable evening than he was. 

As soon as they stepped into the Assembly Hall, Darcy’s ears were graced by the most enchanting laugh he’d ever heard. It rang throughout the room - loud, sweet, and undeniably pleasant - nothing like the tittering ladies of the  _ Ton _ . Seeking the source of the sound, his eyes scanned the room, finally landing on one of the most handsome women he’d ever seen. The first thing he noticed were her eyes. Her expressive, dark green eyes were sparkling with good humor. Strangely, the sight of them made Darcy’s stomach flip. The second thing he noticed was her smile. She made no effort to hide her joy behind her hand as so many other women of Darcy’s acquaintance. No, she smiled widely, and Darcy felt his own lips curl up at the sight. The third thing he noticed was her hair. Her dark, slightly disheveled curls swayed as she spoke animatedly to people next to her, and Darcy was struck with an overwhelming urge to run his hands through it. 

“Darcy?” Someone whispered, beckoning him away from the beautiful vision. 

Darcy immediately straightened up and forced his face back into one of cold indifference. He looked at Bingley only to find a smirk upon the younger man’s face. Obviously, he’d been caught staring. 

“I beg your pardon? I was not attending.”

“Yes, I could tell,” replied Bingley. “We are being approached.” 

“Mr. Bingley!” A voice rang out. 

Sir William Lucas merrily greeted the Netherfield party. Upon his announcement, all attendees turned to them. The local populace were obviously quite eager to meet their new neighbor. As Sir William talked to Bingley, Darcy’s attention was drawn to a scene unfolding nearby. He watched from the corner of his eye as an older woman began to make a bit of a fuss. 

“Jane! Lizzy!” She whispered, though it came off as more of a shout. 

Darcy continued to watch as two ladies approached the older woman. One was tall and blonde with a serene countenance - by all means, a conventional beauty. The other, however, was the very woman who had caught his attention upon entering. Darcy wondered if she was Lizzy or Jane. 

“Yes, mama?” the blonde asked. 

“The Netherfield party has arrived! Oh, girls, straighten up, fix your hair! Jane,” she said, looking at the blonde, “you look very well.” She then turned a more critical eye to the other girl. “Lizzy, do try to make yourself appealing. I doubt Mr. Bingley would choose you over Jane or Lydia, but I suppose there is always a chance.”

Darcy watched on in horror as Lizzy, which he assumed was a nickname, was openly insulted by the woman he supposed to be her mother. How could someone say such a thing to their own child?

To his surprise, Lizzy only shook her head and laughed, nudging her sister with her shoulder. 

“Oh, look at them!” The mother exclaimed, staring at the Netherfield party with her two daughters. “Aren’t they handsome! And so refined!”

Lizzy smirked, and Darcy could see the mirth shimmering in her fine eyes. “More pleased with themselves than what they see, I think.”

He almost visibly started at her response. Without so much as an introduction, she had correctly perceived Miss Bingley’s character, as well as his own proud facade. And how did her family respond to her witty comment? They all but ignored it. 

The mother was then approached by another lady, who began whispering something in her ear. She gasped in response to whatever was said, and Darcy saw her eyes dart to him before she ushered her daughters closer. 

“Do you see the gentleman standing next to Mr. Bingley? That is Mr. Darcy! Bingley’s wealth is nothing compared to his - ten thousand a year! And he owns half of Derbyshire!” 

Darcy very nearly let out a laugh. It never took long for the news of his income to spread. The most humorous thing to him was the fact that people were wrong. Ten thousand pounds had been his income when he took over Pemberley five years ago. In those five years, however, Darcy had made several smart investments and implemented various improvements to his farms and estates. In doing so, he nearly doubled his income - he now made about twenty thousand pounds a year. Darcy hid this fact from all but his closest friends. It was difficult enough to navigate the  _ Ton  _ with ten thousand a year - he shuddered to imagine what they would do if they knew he had more. Why, Miss Bingley may very well drop dead on the spot. 

Darcy directed his attention back to the mother and daughters, all of whom were looking directly at him with varied expressions. The mother looked at him as if he were a fresh cut on the meat market. Jane’s gaze shifted back and forth between himself and Bingley. Most notably, however, was Lizzy. She looked...amused. He had to fight the urge to send the sentiment back to her. 

“Is he not the most handsome man you’ve ever seen?” the mother asked. 

“He would not be quite so handsome if he were not quite so rich,” Lizzy responded, laughing at the look her mother gave in response. 

Once again, the woman shocked him. Even at her mother’s urging, she would not flatter him. The more she spoke, the more interested he became. 

What Bingley said next, though, brought Darcy’s attention back to his own party. 

“Would you kindly introduce us to the Bennets?” 

Ah, the enchanting woman had made Darcy forget about the Bennets, who’s characters he dearly wished to sketch. 

“Certainly!” Sir William replied jovially, scanning the room. “Right this way.”

Darcy’s heart nearly stopped when he realized they were being led straight towards the mother and her daughters, a diverted Lizzy watching them as they approached. 

Darcy stood at a distance, struggling more than ever before to remain indifferent. He desperately wanted to speak with Lizzy, and he found a smile threatening to creep forward as she grinned at her sister. However, it was too soon - the method only worked if given enough time. 

“I am pleased to introduce Mrs. Bennet…,” Sir William said, gesturing towards the older woman. “...Miss Jane Bennet…,” he continued, gesturing towards the blonde beauty. “...and Miss Elizabeth Bennet,” he concluded, gesturing towards the woman with fine eyes and an enchanting laugh. 

As each woman curtsied, Darcy focused all his attention on keeping up his facade. He found Lizzy, or Miss Elizabeth, as he now knew, to be quite disarming. 

“Oh, you are very welcome, sir,” Mrs. Bennet exclaimed. “I have three other daughters.” She pointed out Miss Mary, who was sitting in a corner looking displeased, and Miss Kitty and Miss Lydia, who were dancing...enthusiastically. 

“I hope you have come prepared to dance,” Mrs. Bennet remarked. 

“Ah, yes! Miss Bennet, if you are not otherwise engaged, may I have the next set?” 

For the first time since their approach, Darcy turned to his friend. He was not surprised to find Bingley staring at Miss Bennet, looking about as starstruck as Darcy felt. 

“I am not engaged, sir,” Miss Bennet replied. She was visibly calm, though Darcy saw a spark in her eye as she looked at Bingley. 

“And your friend?” Mrs. Bennet asked, looking towards Darcy. 

Darcy opened his mouth but snapped it shut as his brain caught up with his tongue. He had almost asked Miss Elizabeth to dance the next set. Or maybe all of them.

Thankfully, he recovered. “I rarely dance,” he responded curtly. 

Mrs. Bennet faltered for a moment before trying again. “Well, let tonight be an exception! I doubt you’ll find more lively music or more lovely company,” she said, looking towards Elizabeth, who looked horrified at the insinuation. 

Darcy quickly bowed and left before he was actually persuaded into dancing. As Bingley led Miss Bennet to the next set, Darcy stayed close enough to the remaining Bennets to hear their conversation. He was eager to hear what Miss Elizabeth had to say about his sudden departure. To his surprise, it was Mrs. Bennet that spoke up first. 

“Why, what a proud man! Who does he think he is?” 

“Well, the very rich can afford to give offense wherever they go,” Elizabeth responded sardonically. “We need not care for his good opinion. Perhaps he is not so very handsome after all.”

“No, indeed,” Mrs. Bennet cried, “very disagreeable!” 

That interaction left Darcy with a lot to think about. He was, of course, once again impressed by Miss Elizabeth’s wit and humor. More shockingly, however, was the fact that Darcy was impressed by Mrs. Bennet. Her response to his coldness was far different from most matriarchs. When he showed such blatant distaste for the ladies of the  _ Ton _ , their mothers immediately began telling them of all the things they could do to get his attention. Mrs. Bennet, on the other hand, was offended on behalf of her daughter. She did not hesitate to insult him, and she made no move to gain his favor afterward, regardless of his wealth. 

As the night progressed, Darcy found himself more and more captivated by Elizabeth Bennet. Indeed, he found himself unable to take his eyes off of her. Even when his attention was called away, often by the continuous complaining of Miss Bingley, he could hear little but her ringing laughter. 

“Lizzy!” The youngest Bennet sister called as Elizabeth moved to sit down. “Are you not dancing the next set?”

Elizabeth, who had danced every dance thus far, replied, “No, Lydia, I fear there is a disparity between the sexes. Men are scarce, and we cannot claim them all night. The other ladies would like to dance.” 

“Oh, la! Who cares about that? If they wish to dance, they must make themselves more appealing.”

Elizabeth went to scold Lydia, but the young girl was already being dragged away by Kitty. Lizzy lightly shook her head and took a seat next to Miss Mary. 

Darcy suddenly felt a presence behind him. He turned away from Elizabeth to find Bingley, who looked much too smug at having caught Darcy staring again. 

“Were you finally able to separate yourself from Miss Jane Bennet for more than ten minutes?” Darcy whispered. 

The ginger flushed but quickly recovered. “I’m surprised you noticed. Your gaze has been on Miss Elizabeth the entire evening.” 

Now, it was Darcy’s turn to blush. 

“Shall I set you up for a comment?” Bingley asked. 

Darcy smiled at his friend’s intuition. This was Bingley’s way of helping Darcy with his family’s method. Bingley, being naturally affable, would approach Darcy and ask something within the hearing of a specific person. Darcy, in turn, would produce an abnormally rude response. He would then watch the person’s reaction. If the person ignored his comment, he would cease his pursuit and look elsewhere. If, however, the person did recoil or respond in some manner, Darcy knew they were a potential candidate for friendship. The next step was to get them to chastise him to his face. 

That, however, was the tricky part. Even if someone did disapprove of his behavior, it was very unlikely they would directly rebuke him for it. Still, it was the most important part - they had to say something to him directly. Darcy had to ensure that his friends, and his future wife, were able to say whatever they pleased, even at the risk of offending him. He didn’t want to be surrounded by people who sought only to compliment him. He wanted an equal who was aware of their equality - and he had the sneaking suspicion that Elizabeth Bennet was just that. 

“I will stand near her,” Darcy whispered, “and you must come ask me to dance.”

With a nod, the men separated. Darcy stood near enough to Elizabeth that she could easily overhear them, but far enough to make it seem unintentional. After about five minutes, Bingley approached, and Darcy put his haughty mien on display. 

“Come, man, I must have you dance,” Bingley said with a smile. “I hate to see you standing about in such a stupid manner.” 

Out of the corner of his eye, Darcy could see Elizabeth’s lips quirk up.

“At an assembly such as this? It would be insupportable. Your sisters are presently engaged, and you know very well it would be a punishment for me to stand up with anyone else in the room.” Darcy nearly chuckled at his own statement. As if anything could be worse than dancing with Caroline Bingley!

“Why, I’ve never met so many pleasant girls in my life! Several of them are uncommonly pretty,” Bingley remarked, unable to keep his eyes from straying to Miss Bennet.

Darcy decided to throw his dear friend a bone. “You are dancing with the only handsome girl in the room.” 

At this, Bingley momentarily forgot his mission. “Darcy, she is an angel!”

The taller man smiled slightly but looked pointedly. 

Getting the message, Bingley continued. “Look,” he said, nodding towards Miss Elizabeth, “there is one of her sisters. She is very pretty, too. I daresay, very agreeable.”

“She is tolerable, I suppose, but not handsome enough to tempt me. Bingley, I am no humor to give consequence to young ladies who are slighted by other men. Now, go back to your partner and enjoy her smiles. You are wasting your time with me.” 

With that, Charles was relinquished of his duties and happily took Darcy’s advice. Darcy, on the other hand, stayed firmly in place. He watched from the corner of his eye as Miss Elizabeth worked through her emotions. First, there was disbelief, followed by disgust. In the end, however, she only looked amused. Finally, she stood up and walked right past Darcy, clearly suppressing a laugh. Darcy watched as she approached Miss Lucas. After a few seconds, the two ladies burst out laughing, both glancing at him as they did so.

It seems as though Miss Elizabeth was determined to laugh at him.

Darcy could not think of a better outcome. He had behaved in a ridiculous manner, and she answered in kind, making no effort to hide her feelings. Her response was actually quite similar to Darcy’s own response to the members of the  _ Ton _ . He found much humor in the inconsequential subjects they often gossiped about. Had he heard his comment from the mouth of another, he surely would have burst out laughing as well. 

The rest of the night went as could be expected. Bingley spent most of his time by Jane, and Darcy spent most of it staring at her sister. When the assembly finally came to a close, the Netherfield party piled back into the carriage and set off for home. Though Darcy wished to think about the evening’s events, Caroline was once again set on making her opinion known. 

“What a horrid affair!” she nearly shrieked, looking only at Darcy. 

“I thought it very pleasant,” Bingley rebutted. 

“Oh, really, Charles! How can you say such a thing? There was no class and little breeding,” Caroline replied. “And those Bennets! Oh, Jane Bennet is a sweet girl...but the mother...the sisters! Surely  _ you _ noticed their vile behavior, Mr. Darcy?” 

Darcy did, in fact, notice their behavior. However, given his proclivity for studying character, he was able to view it in a much different light. He had spent a great deal of the assembly watching the Bennets, though his attention was certainly skewed towards the second eldest. 

Firstly, you had the matron of the family. At first glance, Mrs. Bennet seemed a silly woman. Darcy had been particularly revolted by her treatment of Miss Elizabeth. However, after observing the lady more closely, he could see the affection she held for her daughters. Mrs. Bennet was obviously looking to forward an advantageous match, but her outburst towards himself made it clear that she had standards. She would not bind her daughter to an outwardly rude man. The best description Darcy could come up with for Mrs. Bennet was...oblivious and nervous. Yes, those two did nicely. In all her nerves, she became oblivious to the potential consequences of her words and actions. What those nerves stemmed from, Darcy did not know. All he knew was that Mrs. Bennet was not malicious - and that there must be more to the story.

Secondly, you had the eldest sister, Miss Jane Bennet. Outwardly, she was all serenity and beauty. Inwardly, however, Darcy could sense a more complex character. Though she hid it well, he could see her sheepish blush at the behavior of her more boisterous family members. She seemed particularly embarrassed by her mother’s comments regarding Bingley. Regardless, Darcy believed she had the potential to be an excellent match for his friend, and he made a mental note to observe their interactions more carefully. 

Thirdly, you had Miss Mary Bennet. She was clearly an exceptionally shy girl, uninterested in dancing or socializing. She was also intelligent and well-read, as evidenced by her conversations with Miss Elizabeth. Though she did not behave as society deemed a girl ought, Darcy saw no problem with it. If she favored philosophy and religion over ribbons and dancing, so be it. She could certainly attempt to be more polite but was true enough to herself that Darcy could not fault her too harshly. 

Lastly, you had the two youngest Bennets, Miss Kitty and Miss Lydia. The two seemed tied at the hip, and most people would see only the similarities between them. Darcy, however, could spot a few key differences. While both girls were exuberant, Miss Kitty was less problematic. When separated from her youngest sister, the girl actually reminded him of Georgiana. Around Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth, in particular, Kitty was spirited and pleasant - the problem was Miss Lydia. The youngest girl was determined to drag her sister with her wherever she went and would scarcely take no for an answer. If Miss Lydia did something, Miss Kitty was cajoled into it. In truth, Miss Lydia was the only Bennet sister Darcy could find real fault in. None of them were perfect, though he certainly wouldn’t wish them to be - perfection is unachievable and, quite frankly, boring. 

Darcy concluded that the Bennet household was not run as it ought to be. It seems his initial impression of Mr. Bennet was correct, and the blame falls largely on him. Save for Lydia, who was obviously her mother’s favorite, none of the Bennet sisters received enough attention and affection from their parents. Mrs. Bennet, in turn, likely received neither from her husband. Based on what he saw tonight, it was clear that the two eldest Miss Bennets bore the brunt of responsibility in their family. Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth were the only ones who consistently checked their family’s behavior. When Mrs. Bennet got too loud, Miss Bennet sought to calm her. When Miss Lydia got out of hand, Miss Elizabeth was the one to reprimand her. Elizabeth was also the one to provide comfort. When Mrs. Bennet needlessly scolded Miss Mary for simply sitting quietly, Miss Elizabeth was at her side, reassuring Mary that she had done nothing wrong. When Miss Kitty was growing tired of Lydia’s schemes, Elizabeth would invite her into conversation, providing refuge.

Darcy couldn’t help but think that Georgiana would like Miss Elizabeth very much. 

Still, Darcy recognized that it was a bit early to be making final verdicts on the character of all the Bennets. First impressions are important, yes, but one must always look to a wide study pool before reaching a conclusion - they required further observation. At the very least, the Bennets were interesting - a quality that Darcy appreciated. Most interesting of all, of course, was Elizabeth Bennet. He was impressed by her. So it was that Fitzwilliam Darcy fell asleep that night with a pair of fine eyes swirling around his head. 

He was looking forward to seeing her again. 


	4. Chapter 4

Fitzwilliam Darcy was unimaginably grateful to Charles Bingley. They were on their way to a small party at Lucas Lodge, the home of Sir William Lucas. The two gentlemen were excited, both wishing to see one of the Bennet sisters. Unfortunately, they were the only members of their party who felt that way. Miss Bingley had spent the entire afternoon trying to convince Charles not to attend. When she saw her efforts were in vain, she whined like a petulant child. Naturally, she turned to Darcy, thinking he was just as displeased with the situation as she was - he wasn’t sure he could stomach another carriage ride with her. Thankfully, Bingley came to his aid. He told his sister that he and Darcy had some business to discuss, so it would be best to travel separately. One carriage held Bingley and Darcy, while the other carried Caroline and the Hursts. 

Darcy turned to look at his friend. Bingley had been more absentminded as of late - and Darcy knew why. 

“Thinking of your angel?” Darcy asked, a sly smirk creeping onto his face. 

The younger man started and tried to conceal his blush. “I - no. Well...maybe. Were you thinking of yours?” 

“ _ You _ are the one who pursues angels, Bingley. Not I.” 

“No, you’d much prefer a minx.” 

Darcy laughed at his friend’s response, though he had to acknowledge the truth of it. His own parents had had a very loving yet teasing relationship. They were, to be frank, the best of friends. Darcy wanted nothing more than a relationship like theirs. His father assured him that, if Darcy used the family method, he would find such a woman - and he was quite determined to do so. 

When the second carriage arrived, the Netherfield party entered Lucas Lodge, conversing with the ever-merry Sir William Lucas before splitting off. Darcy feared Caroline might follow him, but thankfully, she chose to sit next to her sister and avoid all possible interaction. 

Bingley happily situated himself beside Miss Bennet, who Darcy was pleased to see blush. Darcy himself made his way around the room, searching for a pair of fine eyes. He found Miss Elizabeth talking animatedly with Colonel Foster, the man in charge of the militia stationed in Hertfordshire. Darcy moved closer to hear their conversation and was quite surprised - they were debating politics and discussing the war. The longer he listened, the more impressed he became. Elizabeth was very well-informed, and she soundly defended her point of view. 

“You disagree, then, that soldiers play the most important role?” Colonel Foster asked. 

“I certainly agree that they have the most  _ dangerous _ role. However, it is not enough to win a war; it is more important to organize the peace.”

Darcy was in awe - Elizabeth was quoting Aristotle. As he continued listening to their conversation, the most peculiar thing kept happening. Every time Colonel Foster brought up a new argument, Darcy thought of a rebuttal in his head - only to hear the very same rebuttal come out of Elizabeth’s mouth. The two of them were thinking in sync. 

Unfortunately, the debate came to an end when Lydia loudly announced her desire to dance. Although Elizabeth and Colonel Foster parted without naming a victor, it was clear to Darcy that Elizabeth had won. He continued to watch her as she moved into the corner and began to have a tête-à-tête with Miss Lucas. Once again, Darcy moved close enough to hear them. 

“Your mother would be furious if she heard you talking of war,” Miss Lucas remarked. 

“Oh, definitely,” Miss Elizabeth laughed. “After all, how am I ever to find a husband in such a manner?”

Miss Lucas snickered at her friend’s jest and fixed her eyes across the room toward Jane and Bingley. 

“Perhaps your mother will ease off now that Jane has taken to Bingley. She certainly seems very pleased with him.”

Elizabeth smiled affectionately toward her sister. “I am very happy for her, Charlotte. She and Mr. Bingley are well-matched.”

“I agree, though you must speak to Jane. She can leave him in no doubt of her feelings.”

“What do you mean?”

“She must show more affection, even than she feels, if she is to secure him.”

“Secure him!” Elizabeth laughed. “If he cannot see her regard for him than he is too slow-minded to be a good husband. Indeed, I’ve never seen Jane so happy.”

“But he does not know her as we do. You are aware of your sister’s outward disposition. He may not be able to tell.”

Elizabeth huffed slightly, turning to look at the happy couple before returning her gaze to Charlotte. “You know Jane and I are determined to marry for love. I would rather her fail to secure him now than have her marry him too soon and find that she cannot be happy with him.” 

Darcy was extremely touched by Elizabeth’s declaration. No matter how mercenary Mrs. Bennet’s motives appeared, Miss Bennet must truly be starting to care for Bingley. It seemed that Miss Elizabeth viewed marriage the same way he did - the thought filled him with warmth. 

Darcy refocused on Miss Lucas and Elizabeth’s conversation. 

“It is odd,” Elizabeth began, “that he should be so amiable when his relations are quite the opposite.”

“His sisters do seem very displeased with everything.”

“As does his friend,” Elizabeth answered, looking toward Darcy, only to avert her gaze when she found his eyes already on her. 

Charlotte studied Darcy for a moment before looking back at her friend. “Mr. Darcy looks at you a great deal, Lizzy.”

“I cannot think why. Unless he means to frighten me with his contempt.”

Elizabeth looked at Darcy again, but this time, she did not turn away. “I fear he will be sorely disappointed - my courage always rises with every attempt to intimidate me.”

Darcy only broke the stare when Sir William came up to him, firmly set on speaking to the seemingly austere gentleman. 

“Ah, there really is nothing quite like dancing. It is the mark of a refined society.”

Darcy knew Elizabeth was listening, so he endeavored to answer as disagreeably as possible. “Every savage can dance.”

Sir William, the poor man, did not have a response to that. Darcy felt terrible for making him uncomfortable - he rather liked Sir William. The man was not the brightest, but he was good-humored and kind-hearted. Had Elizabeth not been listening, Darcy would have agreed with him. 

Suddenly, Elizabeth passed them, taking no notice of neither gentleman. Sir William called out to her, undoubtedly looking to escape the awkward situation he’d created.

“Ah, Miss Eliza!” 

Darcy disliked that name for Elizabeth - it was what Caroline liked to call her. For whatever reason, it didn’t seem right. 

“Come, why are you not dancing?” Sir William asked, leading Elizabeth to Darcy. “Mr. Darcy, allow me to present to you a most desirable partner.”

Most desirable, indeed. __

Panic flicked across Elizabeth’s face before being replaced by amusement. “I thank you, but I haven’t the least intention of dancing. Please don’t assume I came this way to beg for a partner.” 

Darcy, for his part, wanted to see what she would say if he asked. “I would be very happy if you would do me the honor of dancing with me, Miss Elizabeth.”

Elizabeth raised her brow in surprise, which was eventually morphed into confusion. “I thank you, but I am not inclined to dance. 

Before Sir William or Darcy could respond, Elizabeth curtsied and walked toward her younger sisters. 

Darcy couldn’t take his eyes off her - that wasn’t the answer he had been expecting. In his twenty-eight years of life, Darcy had never once been turned down for a dance. Even when his behavior was most disagreeable, the ladies of the  _ Ton  _ accepted him. He was impressed, yet, he felt...sad. He realized that he truly did want to dance with Elizabeth Bennet. 

As he watched her laugh with the members of the militia, Darcy was consumed by an odd feeling - jealousy. He had never felt jealous because of a woman before. Then again, he had never been so affected by one. How could he be when he spent most of his time arou-

“I bet I can guess your thoughts at the moment, Mr. Darcy.”

...When he spent most of his time around Caroline.

“I should imagine not.” 

“You are thinking how insupportable it would be to spend more evenings in such tedious company.” 

“No, indeed, my mind is more agreeably engaged. I have been meditating on the great pleasure a pair of fine eyes in the face of a pretty woman can bestow.”

“And can one guess who’s fine eyes inspired these reflections?”

Darcy wanted to laugh. He knew she would think he was talking about her - and that she was about to be very disappointed. 

“Miss Elizabeth Bennet’s.”

Miss Bingley’s horror was nearly tangible. “Miss Elizabeth Bennet’s...I am all astonishment.”

The  _ tedious _ woman finally walked away, and Darcy was left to stalk the outskirts of the room in peace. He spent the rest of the night observing the Bennet family, whose behavior all matched the sketches he’d made at the Meryton Assembly. 

Mrs. Bennet spent most of her time gossiping with the other matrons. Unsurprisingly, Jane and Bingley were the most-discussed topic, with a heavy emphasis on a potential marriage. 

Jane Bennet spent the entire evening talking with Bingley. Though she certainly looked perfectly serene, Darcy could see her eyes glowing as she spoke - she liked Charles. The thought made Darcy happy, and he decided to do what he could to encourage the match, so long as the affection remained. It seemed he now shared a common goal with Mrs. Bennet. __

Mary Bennet spent most of her night at the pianoforte. She... wasn’t terribly skilled. Still, Darcy could see that she was passionate about it. It was, perhaps, a bit obnoxious, but he would prefer to watch an amateur who enjoyed themselves over a master who hated their craft. 

Kitty Bennet spent half of her time dancing with Lydia and the other half talking with Maria Lucas. Once again, Darcy could see the poor affect her younger sister had. When she was with Lydia, Kitty was overly-boisterous. When removed from her sister, however, the young girl was excitable but pleasant.

Unsurprisingly, Lydia Bennet spent the entire evening flirting with the militia. The only one who endeavored to put a stop to it was Elizabeth. Jane was much too focused on Bingley, and Mrs. Bennet, the person who  _ should  _ be correcting the girl, seemed only to encourage it. Thus, Elizabeth was left on her own. Darcy was impressed with her tenacity, but he could see that Lydia was starting to wear her down. He felt pulled to comfort her in some way, but he knew it was not his place to do so. 

Yet. 

Darcy found himself more curious than ever about life at Longbourn. How could five girls from the same family be so different? How did Mr. Bennet run his household? How did he treat his wife? His daughters? Darcy’s stomach soured at the thought. While he certainly didn’t think Mr. Bennet a malicious man, he couldn’t shake the feeling that the Master of Longbourn was neglecting his duties as a father and husband to a certain extent. Bingley and Darcy arrived in Meryton almost four weeks ago, and Darcy had never once seen the man out with his family. 

He thought back to his own parents - there was scarcely a time when they weren’t together. If George Darcy was out, Anne was with him. When they were blessed with a son, their party of two became a merry party of three. It even became something of a joke amongst their tenants - they never saw a lone Darcy. Fitzwilliam struggled to imagine having a father so disconnected from his own family. Were the Bennets unhappy?

Darcy left Lucas Lodge with a surprisingly troubling thought swirling around his head. 

Was Elizabeth unhappy?


	5. Chapter 5

Darcy had rarely seen Bingley so distressed. He watched as the agitated ginger paced around the room, attempting to listen to the physician’s words. 

“She has only a mild fever,” Dr. Jones gently explained. ““Tis nothing a few days of bed rest won’t cure. Should she get worse, however, you need only call for me.” 

“She may get worse?” Bingley pressed, finally halting his movements to look at the doctor. 

“It is unlikely, though never impossible. The human body can be infuriatingly unpredictable. I would recommend a servant be assigned to her room, just in case.”

Charles looked at the man a moment longer before merely nodding and exiting the parlor, leaving Darcy alone with the bemused physician. 

“Should I be more worried about him?” Jones commented, still staring at the door. “He scarcely seems in a better state than Miss Bennet.” 

“He will be fine.” Darcy chuckled. “Charles is not used to handling so many things at once. Should we call for one of her sisters? We’ve already informed her father, but I’m sure Miss Bennet would prefer the company of family over that of a maid.”

“I doubt that will be necessary. I have known the Bennets for nearly thirty years - were I a gambling man, I would bet you five pounds that Miss Lizzy is already on her way over.”

Darcy noticed an affectionate gleam in the man’s eye, and it occurred to him that the physician had likely known the Bennets girls all their lives. Here was a man who knew the family well - and what praise he had just given Elizabeth! How highly he must think of her to be in no doubt of her supposed arrival! Darcy couldn’t help but capitalize on the situation. He wanted to know more about the enchanting woman. 

“Does Miss Elizabeth often look after her sisters?”

“There are few things Miss Lizzy wouldn’t do for her sisters, Miss Bennet, in particular. Given all she does, I fear Miss Elizabeth would be my most frequent patient, if not for her strong constitution.” 

At the moment, Darcy was grateful for his position in society, as it clearly made the doctor eager to answer his questions - and the man’s response had left Darcy with more than ever. 

“Miss Elizabeth truly does that much for her sisters? Enough to cause concern?”

“If it were just her sisters, perhaps it would not be, but Miss Lizzy’s kindness extends well beyond her family. She and Miss Bennet are quite dedicated to Longbourn’s tenants - should one ask for anything, they are the first to respond. I have had to warn them, Miss Lizzy, in particular, about going out to visit them so often during the winter months. However, she is a stubborn creature who insists on personally delivering the winter clothes knitted by her sister. To my knowledge, she is also the one who has taught many of them to read and write.”

“I...that is impressive,” Darcy floundered. He felt his response inadequate, but he did not know what else to say.

“Indeed it is,” Jones smiled. “The people of Meryton owe her and Miss Bennet a great deal.” 

Darcy’s mind still whirled with questions. Had Elizabeth hurt herself doing any of this? Did no one but Miss Bennet help her? What did Mr. Bennet and Mrs. Bennet actually do around Longbourn? 

The more he thought about it, the more aggrieved he became on behalf of the two eldest Bennet sisters. It seemed as though the responsibilities of Longbourn fell disproportionately on them. What kind of parents would send their daughter out in the middle of winter to do a job meant for the Master and Mistress of the estate? Or, perhaps even more pressing, what kind of parents would send their daughter out on  _ horseback _ when rain was so clearly imminent? 

Dr. Jones soon left, promising to check back in three days. Bingley was wary of his departure and likely would have tried to convince the man to take up a room at Netherfield had Darcy not talked him out of it. With Dr. Jones gone and Bingley preoccupied with his angel, Darcy was left to ruminate on the doctor’s words...and his brain finally caught up with one specific, crucial detail. 

Elizabeth was coming to Netherfield. __

Of course, when he’d mentioned inviting a sister, Elizabeth was the one he had thought of. Darcy wished he could say his intentions were purely selfless. It was, after all, apparent that Miss Bennet was closest to Elizabeth - but he could not lie to himself. Darcy simply wished to be in Elizabeth’s company again. Like a moth to a flame, he was drawn to her. The more he attempted to think of other things, the more she occupied his thoughts. The idea of her being at Netherfield filled Darcy with an ebullience he rarely felt outside of Derbyshire. Knowing he would find no solace in just standing about, he decided to go for a walk - perhaps he’d see Elizabeth as she approached. 

The weather was, thankfully, far more pleasant today than yesterday. Darcy’s thoughts once again wandered to the poor woman abed in one of the guestrooms of Netherfield. What were they thinking, sending Miss Bennet out in such weather? They were lucky a mild fever was the worst of her symptoms. 

As Darcy made to step over a puddle of mud, a flash of brown caught his eye, and his heart nearly stopped when he saw who it was. 

Elizabeth. 

Standing on a slight incline near a group of bushes, Darcy was mostly hidden from her view, though he could see her perfectly. He watched as she effortlessly hoisted herself over a fence and continued on, paying no heed to the mud and dirt surrounding her. She had removed her bonnet and was swinging it through the air as she walked, utterly oblivious to her admirer. He continued to watch as she pulled a few leaves from a low-hanging branch and merrily tossed them into the air, smiling delightedly as they swirled to the ground. Elizabeth looked so content amongst the grass and trees - it filled Darcy with warmth.

He decided to go around and meet her in the garden, for he could not resist getting a moment alone with her. As he approached, a twig snapped under his boot, and Elizabeth’s eyes shot up. For a moment, Darcy struggled to speak. He had thought she looked beautiful from afar...but up close she was bewitching. The curls which had escaped her bun fluttered gracefully along her rosy cheeks, and her lovely dark green eyes shone brighter than ever. Darcy’s own eyes darkened as Elizabeth’s lips parted in surprise, and he was suddenly taken by desire - he wanted to kiss her. He imagined her lips would be soft on his own and just as eager. He could see Elizabeth being a very passionate woman with the man she loved. If her affection for her sister was anything to go by, Elizabeth’s love would be ardent and wholehearted. A man married to her could want for nothing. 

And, dear God, he wanted to be that man. 

Trying to ward off his thoughts, Darcy looked down, and he couldn’t contain his smile - Elizabeth’s hem was at least six inches deep in mud. Just when he thought she could not look more appealing, she proved him wrong. Not only was this woman intelligent, witty, and kind, but she also clearly delighted in the outdoors. Taking in her appearance as a whole, Darcy could not help but think her a nymph. 

He knew she would love Pemberley, with its vast wilderness and breathtaking sights. Perhaps they could walk down to the lake every morning, hand-in-hand, and...

Darcy’s thoughts were interrupted as Elizabeth cleared her throat. It occurred to him that he should probably say something instead of simply staring at the enchanting creature like a simpleton. 

“Miss Elizabeth, what a pleasure to see you. You are well, I hope? It is a fine day for a walk.”

She looked slightly taken aback by his words, and Darcy realized he had unintentionally dropped his proud facade. He was getting ahead of himself. Elizabeth had yet to admonish him, so he could not behave as he desired. Not yet. He needed to be patient. Still, the thought of treating Elizabeth in such a way pained him. What wonderful conversations they would have if he could only be his true self! His father had warned him of that possibility - it is difficult to keep the charade up in such pleasant company. 

“Mr. Darcy,” the flustered woman said, “I have come to enquire after my sister.”

“Yes, of course,” he answered, attempting to appear cold and indifferent once again. “I will take you to her.” 

It took all of Darcy’s willpower not to talk to Elizabeth as they walked to Miss Bennet’s room - he had so much he wanted to tell her, so many things to discuss. Yet, he kept resolutely silent as they neared their destination, determined to stick to his family’s strategy. A beaming Bingley exited Jane’s room as they approached, and Darcy was saddened to see the younger man gifted with a smile from Elizabeth when he himself had not been. 

“Mr. Bingley, forgive me for intruding. Is my sister well?” Elizabeth asked, concern evident in her voice. 

“Oh, pray, do not worry about intruding! Ja- I mean, Miss Bennet will be glad to have you here. As will I.” 

Both Darcy and Elizabeth smiled at Bingley’s slip of the tongue, and the ginger coloured slightly. 

“My father tells me you’ve sent for Dr. Jones.”

“Indeed, we did. He left not fifteen minutes ago. According to him, your sister has a slight fever and requires bed rest. You will be staying with her, I presume.” At this, Bingley looked slyly toward Darcy. 

“I would not wish to inconvenience you... Are you certain Jane cannot be moved back to Longbourn?”

Before Charles could even reply, Darcy jumped in. “Dr. Jones was quite emphatic that your sister not be moved, and I’m sure she’d much prefer having you by her side.” 

Elizabeth looked between the gentlemen before conceding. “Very well. Mr. Bingley, I can not thank you enough for your hospitality.”

“It is nothing, Miss Elizabeth, I assure you. I shall send for your belongings.”

Elizabeth smiled and curtsied before entering her sister’s room, leaving both a very pleased Mr. Darcy and an amused Mr. Bingley to themselves. Bingley clapped his friend on the back and motioned towards the study. The two men sequestered themselves inside before Bingley broke the silence. 

“Alright, man, what’s your plan?”

“My plan?” Darcy asked. “What do you mean?”

The younger man rolled his eyes. “You’re going to have many opportunities to speak with Miss Elizabeth in relative privacy. You’re obviously already half in love with the woman, so how are you going to approach this?” 

“As I always have - using my family’s method.” 

“Do you not think,” Bingley said cautiously, “that you ought to be more careful this time around? What if she does not forgive you, even after an explanation? You must realize how this situation looks to her.” 

“You have never had a problem with it before.”

“That is true, but the stakes have never been so high. Instead of losing a potential friend, you are losing a potential wife...which you know are far rarer.” 

Darcy paled at the thought - he hadn’t considered that. Thinking back to his grandfather’s and father’s betrothal stories, he decided to approach it just as they did. They had succeeded in love, after all. 

“I will only ask that she give me a chance to start over and prove that my behavior was all a ruse.” 

Charles still looked unconvinced. After a moment, heat flashed across the young man’s face, and he looked toward the ground. Confused by his friend’s sudden bashfulness, Darcy went to ask the reason, but stopped when Bingley spoke up. 

“I...If you would like...I could tell Jane about your plan. If she knew the truth of your character, she could convince her sister to give you another chance. I-I just think Miss Elizabeth would be more receptive of you if you had her sister’s support.”

Darcy was utterly baffled by Bingley’s suggestion, and even more flummoxed by his demeanor. It immediately became apparent that Bingley’s relationship with the eldest Bennet sister was closer than he realized. 

“And why would she agree to that?” Darcy asked, carefully observing his friend’s countenance.

“I...we’ve talked. About everything. About nothing. I...think we reached an agreement just now.” The blushing man smiled widely at the floor, and Darcy couldn’t help but reciprocate the look. 

“Is that what you were doing in there?”

“Not initially, no. I went to check in on her, and she admitted that her mother had purposefully sent her out into the rain in the hopes that she would be stuck here. I asked her if the thought of being here..with me...was so horrible to her, and she said she only wished she wasn’t sick so that she could spend more time in my company. I intend to go to her father once she is well and ask for a formal courtship.” 

“I must admit,” Darcy responded, “I didn’t think you had it in you.” 

Bingley laughed and threw himself into a chair, letting out a sigh of contentment. Suddenly, he perked up again and fixed Darcy with a stare. 

“So, you agree to letting Jane in on it, then?”

The older man bit his bottom lip, considering the proposition. He certainly could not deny the logic of it. Having Miss Bennet in his corner would undoubtedly help him convince Elizabeth of his true nature. 

“Very well. You may tell Miss Bennet. However, I must ask that neither of you say anything to Elizabeth until I do. If all goes well, she will rebuke me at some point during her stay here, and we can reveal all to her then.”

As Darcy laid in bed that night, thinking of the day’s events, the weight of his feelings finally bore down on him, and he was struck with a sudden realization. 

He loved Elizabeth Bennet. 

It was obvious enough, but with the chaos of the day, he hadn’t yet had time to admit it to himself. Finally, after all his years of searching, he had found the woman he wanted to marry. The feeling was everything his father had said it would be. Yet, Darcy’s thoughts saddened as he realized that he could not yet show her his affection. Instead, he would have to feign coldness toward a person whom he felt nothing but warmth for. The sooner he could get her to reprimand him, the better. 

Soon enough, he would be able to take his Elizabeth into his arms and show her just how much she meant to him.


	6. Chapter 6

The day was growing tiresome for Fitzwilliam Darcy. Elizabeth had been at Netherfield for four days now, and he thought himself making excellent progress. The two of them had had countless debates on any number of subjects, in all of which Elizabeth proved a formidable opponent. The more they spoke, the more he admired her wit, charm, and intelligence. However, it was not long before Darcy began to notice something in her behavior - something which brought him a great deal of pleasure. 

While they always started their debates a comfortable distance away from each other, he, naturally, could not help but gravitate towards her. And she, it seemed, could not help but do the same. This alone would have been enough to please Darcy greatly, but what he noticed soon after caused pure delight - the closer they got, the more flustered she became. Toward the end of their debates, when they were standing not five inches apart, Elizabeth would begin to trip over her own words. Her arguments were still sound, of course, just less eloquently put. There was something completely mesmerizing about her when she was in such a state, her cheeks flushed, but her eyes still as fiery as ever. There were moments, amidst all the talking, when Elizabeth would lick her lips, and Darcy would come a hair’s breadth away from losing every ounce of self-control.

Indeed, while he took great joy in every interaction they had, Darcy could not help but feel restless. He was growing more impatient with each passing day. How much longer could he frown at the person who’s mere presence made him smile? How much longer could he feign disinterest towards the most interesting person he’d ever met? How much longer could he withhold his affection? Not long, he feared. Therefore, Darcy counted on having some time every day to work towards his goal. Today, however, the universe was against him.

Elizabeth had disappeared quickly after breakfast, leaving him alone with the Bingleys and the Hurusts. On an ordinary occasion, this would not be so terrible, but Caroline was clearly growing displeased with his lack of attention towards her. As soon as breakfast was over, she linked her arm with his and insisted he turn the pages while she played the pianoforte. Bingley attempted to rescue him, as he usually did, but his sister was having none of it, and the young man was ultimately shut down, choosing instead to follow them to the music room like a kicked puppy. The group remained there for nearly an hour before Bingley finally told Caroline that he and Darcy were needed in town. While Darcy was certainly happy to be away from Miss Bingley, he was less than thrilled to be away from Elizabeth. Bingley, of course, caught on to his friend’s dour mood rather quickly.

“It was either this,” the ginger explained, spurring his horse into a trot, “or remain subject to my sister’s playing.”

“I know, and I must thank you for freeing me. I only wish to keep making progress.” 

“Do you think you are close?”

Darcy looked forward, pondering the question. He certainly hoped he was, though he could not say for sure. 

“Cheer up, man,” Bingley said, breaking the silence. “You know I wish to court her sister. Even if you do not succeed before she leaves Netherfield, there will be plenty more opportunities.” 

Bingley was right, he knew, but could he truly wait that long?

Upon returning to Netherfield, the two men were informed that Elizabeth had yet to leave her sister’s room. Naturally, Bingley began to worry that his angel’s health was deteriorating, so he made up the stairs as quickly as possible. Darcy followed his friend at a much slower pace and was perplexed to find him standing silently at the door when he finally arrived. The younger man waved Darcy over, indicating that he should be quiet. Darcy shot Bingley a look - this was hardly proper. Still, he obeyed and came close enough to hear what Elizabeth and Jane were saying. He finally realized why Bingley had called him over. 

They were talking about  _ him _ . 

“He is the most unpleasant, disagreeable man I’ve ever met!” Elizabeth exclaimed. 

“Truly, Lizzy,” Jane replied, “he can not be that bad.”

“He is determined to be displeased with everything. And you should have heard his opinion on accomplished women! He sets a standard no one can meet.” 

“Do you not enjoy your debates with him?”

“I...those are not debates. They are...arguments,” she responded, sounding as if she didn’t quite believe her own statement. “I dislike him.”

What Jane said next sent a shiver down Darcy’s spine.

“Say what you like, but you’ve scarcely talked of anyone else since we’ve been here. One does not talk so frequently of people they dislike.” 

“I...but, J-Jane,” Elizabeth stuttered, “his behavior is deplorable!” 

Jane let out a small laugh before responding, her voice more tired than before. “Let us continue this  _ debate  _ another time, yes? I am tired. You ought to go get a book from the library.” 

At Jane’s statement, Darcy and Bingley dashed away from the door, both terrified of being caught. Darcy made for the library as quickly as possible, picking up a random book and seating himself in an armchair by the fireplace. His haste, it seems, was unwarranted, as Elizabeth did not enter the library until four minutes later. 

Not that Darcy was counting. 

He was disappointed to see her take the furthest seat from him as she began to read. 

“And what have you chosen today, Miss Elizabeth?” Darcy asked, determined to start some kind of conversation. 

“ _ The Castle of Otranto _ . And you have chosen..,” she paused, looking towards the book in his hands, “... _ The Romance of the Forest _ ?”

Darcy coloured as he looked from Elizabeth’s amused expression down to the book he held. It was indeed  _ The Romance of the Forest _ . He cursed himself for not at least checking the title before she arrived - of every book in the library, he had picked one written by Radcliffe. 

“I did not have you pegged as a romantic,” Elizabeth remarked, eyes shining with ill-concealed mirth. 

Darcy’s breath hitched as she bit her lip to contain her laughter. He couldn’t take it anymore. He knew what she thought of him - all he had to do was get her to say it out loud. 

“And if I told you I am?” he asked, standing from his seat to face her. 

All at once, the amusement seeped from her eyes, replaced by a look of defiance. “I would not believe you.”

As he took a small step towards her, she also stood from her seat, though he still had the advantage of height. 

“Why not?” Darcy pressed. “What have I done to give you that impression?”

Elizabeth clenched her jaw, slowly being consumed by fiery indignation. “It would be unkind of me to say,” she responded curtly. 

Darcy took yet another step forward, heart beating rapidly in his chest - it was finally time to set the bait. 

“Surely,” he said cooly, “you could not say something so unkind to someone so obviously superior to you.”

Darcy watched Elizabeth’s eyes as she finally snapped, overtaken by anger. That had done it. Now, he could only prepare himself for the inevitable onslaught of well-deserved lambasting. 

And, boy, was she going to deliver. 

“Superior?” Elizabeth cried, gritting her teeth. “Is that how you view yourself, Mr. Darcy? Superior to everyone around you? Well, I have news for you, sir: you are not. You are the most arrogant, conceited man I have ever had the displeasure of meeting! Your pride, your selfish disdain for the feelings of others - is that the behavior of a gentleman? Do you think that ten thousand pounds a year gives you the right to treat others however you like? Do you think no one can fault you simply because you were blessed enough to be born into the first circles? Mr. Darcy, you could be king of England, and your behavior would still be abominable. You have treated everyone in Hertfordshire with such blatant disregard - such disrespect! If you are so inclined to hate everyone and everything, I wonder why you even bothered to come at all. Did you wish to lord your wealth over us simple country savages? Did you think you were doing us some great favor by gracing us with your presence? No. You, sir, are a gentleman in name only. Any superiority you feel is the product of a deluded mind.” 

As Elizabeth finished her reproach, eyes still ablaze, Darcy found himself completely torn. On the one hand, he was elated - she had passed his family’s test. She had taken him to task. On the other hand, Darcy was crushed - she despised him. That was the goal, of course, but to hear her say it - to see the resentment in her eyes - hurt more than he ever could have imagined. 

Dread quickly drowned out every other feeling as Darcy remembered Bingley’s concerns. What if she didn’t believe him? What if she wouldn’t forgive him? He knew it was time to explain himself, but her words, her looks, had turned his tongue to lead. He could not speak. Here, standing right in front of him, was the woman he loved more than anyone else in the world. How was he to convey the weight of his feelings? His love? With a mouth that refused to form words and a heart that threatened to leap straight out of his chest, Fitzwilliam Darcy could do only one thing. 

He kissed her. 

The kiss was tender and slow, yet passionate - Darcy put every feeling, every emotion into it. If he could not speak of his love through words, he would show it through actions. Elizabeth did not respond at first, lips unmoving and eyes widened in shock. Yet, ever so slowly, her mouth began to move with his. Darcy had been right - her lips were incredibly soft. Warmth pervaded his body, and he felt lighter than he had in years. His grandfather had tried to explain this feeling once, and Darcy couldn’t help but think that the old man hadn’t done it justice. 

The need for air finally separated the two, though Darcy refused to move back to a more respectable distance. Instead, he grabbed her hands, clutching them tightly, and looked into her eyes. Her dark green orbs were unfocused and distant, though he could see confusion beginning to shine through. Sighing, he looked down at their joined hands. It was time to tell her. 

“I believe,” Darcy began, “I owe you an explanation. Would you be so kind as to sit on the sofa with me?”

Elizabeth swallowed, finally tearing her gaze away from him. Without looking back, she nodded. Darcy guided her to the loveseat, though he still would not - could not - release her hands. He feared that, if he let her go, if he even loosened his grip, she would slip right through his fingers, and he would never be able to catch her again. Her soft skin was warm, and he found the contact reassuring - she made no attempt to remove them herself.

“I...suppose I should start from the beginning. My family has this...tactic, I suppose, for socializing. My grandfather was the first to use it. He passed it on to my father, who then passed it on to me. To put it simply, we act intentionally prideful and arrogant, in the hopes that some...extraordinary person will come along and admonish us for our behavior.”

Elizabeth blushed at Darcy’s insinuation, looking down to where their hands still met. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but closed it quickly. Darcy waited silently as she grappled with her thoughts. Finally, she spoke. 

“That can not win you many friends.”

“Indeed, it does not,” Darcy replied, chuckling lightly. “But quantity is not the goal. I do not wish to surround myself with superficial people who care only for money and status. I long for true companionship. I wish to befriend people with genuine interests and opinions - people who seek to know me for  _ me _ . I do not want those around me to agree with everything I say simply because forming an acquaintance with me is socially beneficial. You must understand how difficult it is to find such people.” 

“So, you wait until someone rebukes you for your behavior. That way, you know who cares for your person and not your money,” Elizabeth finished. 

“Exactly,” Darcy smiled. 

“That is...quite clever. And you make all your friends this way?”

“I do. Just as my father and grandfather did. I...it is also how they found their wives.” At his last statement, Darcy squeezed Elizabeth’s hands, watching as her eyes went wide once again. “I realize that this is a lot to take in. If you require further proof, Bingley can vouch for me, as can your sister - he informed her.”

“Jane knows about this?” Elizabeth asked incredulously. 

“She does. Bingley feared you would not take my word for it.”

Elizabeth stared at him as if she were trying to ascertain the truth from his face alone. “I...I believe I need some time to think on all this. Pray, excuse me.” 

Darcy reluctantly released Elizabeth’s hands as she stood up. He had not expected her to understand right away, and he knew she would need time. Still, a part of him wanted to reach out to her, ask her not to go - ask her to marry him. Darcy watched with a heavy heart as she made for the exit. He was surprised, however, when she stopped at the door. Slowly, she turned around and regarded him once more. Then, in the quietest voice, she asked a question. 

“Why me?”

Letting out a shaky, uneven breath, Darcy went to meet her and grabbed her hands once again, the urge too great to resist. How was he to explain this?

“I must confess, you caught my attention almost immediately. As soon as I entered the assembly, I heard your laugh. It was so open, so carefree and joyous - nothing like the titering I am accustomed to. I was...enchanted. And then I heard your comments to your mother and sister. You were so unmoved by every mention of money, of status, instead focusing on our behavior. The more I heard you speak that night, the more impressed I became. And when I made that horrible comment...you laughed at me!”

Elizabeth’s face grew increasingly red with every sentence, though Darcy was delighted to see her hooked on every word he said.

“Every discussion,” he continued, “I heard between you and your neighbors only raised you in my esteem. Your intelligence, your wit, your charm - all of it present in the interactions I was fortunate enough to witness. And surely, you must know that your kindness is spoken of throughout Meryton. Doctor Jones told me of all you and Miss Bennet do.”

Elizabeth was no longer looking at him, though Darcy could almost feel the heat radiating off her face. 

“You...you have bewitched me, Elizabeth. I would be a fool to choose anyone else.” With that, he gently kissed her hands before letting them go. “I know you need time. I shall wait as long as it takes.”

“I...yes. Thank you,” she responded quietly, glancing up at him. Elizabeth dipped into a small curtsey before exiting the library, leaving Darcy alone. 

He wasn’t sure how long he stood there, head spinning, rooted in place. The world seemed very distant to him. All he could focus on were his tingling lips, warm hands, and the fading scent of lavender. 


	7. Chapter 7

Elizabeth Bennet walked back to her room in such a daze, she almost passed straight by the door. As soon as she entered, she collapsed onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. For twenty minutes, she laid there, unable to pinpoint a single thought. Her mind was swirling, and any time she believed she possessed the capacity to think rationally about something, an entirely new thought took its place. How cruel it was for reason to abandon her at such a time! Elizabeth desperately wanted to speak to Jane, but she would have to wait until they returned to Longbourn. She could not bear being overheard, and she knew now that Mr. Darcy was a habitual listener. Therefore, she resolved to forget about the encounter until they returned home. Surely, it would not be too difficult. She could easily forget the passion in his eyes. The warmth of his hands. The softness of his lips. And she could obviously ignore her own palpitating heart and this all-encompassing feeling of warmth.

Right? 

Wrong. She and Jane left the next day, though, to Elizabeth, it felt like weeks. Time rarely dragged for her, as she was not the sort to be easily bored, so she was scarcely prepared to cope with it. As soon as Jane was done being interrogated by their mother, who bemoaned the fact that Mr. Bingley had yet to propose, Elizabeth dragged the poor girl up to their room. 

Elizabeth locked the door and began to pace. How was she to approach this? Would Jane even be willing to talk about it? Turning to meet her elder sister’s gaze, Elizabeth was immediately discomposed by the blonde’s knowing smile. 

“And how did your confrontation with Mr. Darcy go, my dear Lizzy?” Jane asked, looking entirely too smug.

Elizabeth flushed, and she began to pace again. “I...it was...you knew about this? About Mr. Darcy?”

Jane’s smile grew more sympathetic, and she reached out to her disconcerted sister, easing her onto the side of the bed. “Yes, Mr. Bingley told me not long after you arrived. He seemed quite worried that you would not believe Mr. Darcy.” 

Elizabeth smiled at her sister, watching her eyes light up as she spoke of Mr. Bingley. Lizzy knew the two of them had reached some sort of understanding at Netherfield, and, according to Jane, the young man planned on speaking to their father tomorrow. Even in her time of illness, Jane’s happiness had been clearly written on her face. It brought Elizabeth a great deal of pleasure to see her most beloved sister so content. 

“When he first started speaking,” Elizabeth began, “I must confess, I did not believe him - it seemed such a ridiculous notion. But the look on his face...it was so earnest. He looked so changed. So altered. There was a sincere kindness in his features I had never seen before.” 

“Surely, you find the scheme clever? I certainly did, and you have a far greater appreciation for such things. I dare say even Papa would be impressed.” 

“Yes,” Elizabeth laughed, “I do find it rather ingenious, and it was most-definitely effective.” 

“You know, Mr. Bingley had a great deal to say in his friend’s favor. He said that Mr. Darcy is perhaps the kindest man of his acquaintance. He is also quick-witted and quite humorous amongst friends...much like you. Truly, he didn’t have a bad thing to say about the man.” 

“I doubt Mr. Bingley is capable of criticizing...much like you.”

“Mr. Darcy befriended Mr. Bingley the same way he befriends everyone, meaning he is fully capable of making his poor opinion known.”

Lizzy could find no argument, though admittedly, she found the thought of Mr. Bingley admonishing Mr. Darcy quite amusing. She flopped onto her back, the action mirrored by her sister. The two of them laid in silence for some time, one with a smile and the other with a furrowed brow. Elizabeth thought back to every interaction she’d witnessed between Darcy and others, attempting to view them in a different light. 

The man had certainly spent a great deal of time watching her family. Initially, she had assumed he was judging them, looking to find fault - Lord knows there’s plenty of it to be found. However, thinking back with this new information, she could recall concern written on his features, almost as if he was worried about something. More importantly, he seemed worried  _ about  _ them and not  _ because of  _ them. On top of that, his friendship with Mr. Bingley definitely made more sense. The easy camaraderie between the two men seemed obvious now, and Lizzy felt a bit foolish for having missed it. There was also, of course, his clear dislike for Miss Bingley. She could now recognize the anger that flashed in Darcy’s eyes every time the insufferable woman made a disparaging comment towards herself or her sister. 

At the forefront of Lizzy’s mind, however, was the way he had looked at  _ her _ . Elizabeth had felt his gaze on her so frequently, she had almost grown used to it. He looked at her constantly, seemingly watching every move. Naturally, she thought he had found some great fault with her, and could not go five minutes without reminding himself of it. Now, though...now the memory of his gaze sent a shiver down her spine. His was not, in fact, a look of disdain, but a look of longing - of admiration. 

Lizzy’s face reddened as her mind drifted back to their kiss in the library. It had taken her by surprise, to be sure, but it was so undeniably...pleasant? No, that didn’t do it justice. She could not put a word to the feeling he had elicited. And the way he spoke...so caring, so loving. 

_ Loving… _

Lizzy stiffened in realization. Surely,  _ that  _ was not the feeling. How could it be? It’s not possible. She didn’t love Mr. Darcy...right? Sure, she was inexplicably drawn to him - and had been even before he had confessed his true character. And, of course, the fact that he always treated her as an intellectual equal made her eager for every conversation. And, yes, she thought of him more often than she did any other man of her acquaintance. But that didn’t mean anything...

Elizabeth rolled onto her stomach and buried her face in the sheets, too overcome with emotion, too full of thoughts. Jane slowly rubbed her back, attempting to ease her sister’s turmoil.

“You do not need to make a decision now, Lizzy,” Jane whispered softly. “Mr. Darcy will be patient. You need only give him a chance.”

That, Elizabeth decided, she could do.

She would give him a chance.


	8. Chapter 8

This week was proving tortuous for Elizabeth Bennet. The day after her conversation with Jane, Mr. Bingley had indeed come to call with the intention of speaking to their father. When the news that Mr. Bingley was formally courting Jane reached Mrs. Bennet’s ears, half of Longbourn went deaf. Had Mr. Bingley been any less in love, Lizzy was sure her mother’s effusions would have scared the poor man away. This alone, however, was not enough to put Elizabeth in low spirits, as her happiness for Jane far outweighed the vexation caused by her mother. No, what truly led to Lizzy’s dour mood was the arrival of their cousin, Mr. Collins. 

Her father had kept the news of the man’s impending visit to himself until the very last minute, as was his wont. She, therefore, had had little time to prepare, though she was convinced that no amount of time would have been enough to steel herself for his ridiculous behavior. Elizabeth would be more inclined to laugh at Mr. Collins had he not so obviously directed his attentions towards  _ her _ . 

Even now, when walking to Meryton with her sisters, the irritating man was glued to her side, engaging in a one-sided conversation. In truth, Elizabeth had no idea what he was saying, as she endeavored to listen as little as possible. She could only assume that he was speaking of Lady Catherine de Bourgh, whom all the Bennets quickly learned was Mr. Collins’ favorite subject. 

“Oh!” Lydia shouted, effectively silencing her rambling cousin. “Look, there’s Captain Denny!”

Before Lizzy or Jane could stop her, the youngest Bennet shot off in the officer’s direction, determined to get his attention. Thankfully, Elizabeth was able to use the distraction to remove herself from Mr. Collins’ side and go after her sister. Captain Denny and Captain Carter greeted the Bennets genially, and the group fell into easy conversation, though Lydia carried most of it. 

Elizabeth started as Jane suddenly grabbed her arm. She peered questioningly, only to find her sister staring off with a wide grin on her face. Following her gaze, Lizzy saw two men approaching on horse. One was Mr. Bingley, and the other was…

Mr. Darcy. 

It had been a full week since she’d last seen Mr. Darcy at Netherfield, and he had occupied her thoughts for most of that time. Now, here he was, not fifteen feet away...and he was smiling at her.

“Good morning!” Bingley greeted, looking mostly at Jane, though taking considerable effort to regard everyone. “We were just coming to call on you!” The two men dismounted and bowed. 

Elizabeth could vaguely hear Jane’s reply, though she knew not what the older girl said, as her focus was solely on Mr. Darcy - and his was solely on her. As they observed each other, Elizabeth was forced to admit that he looked frightfully handsome when he smiled. 

She only snapped out of whatever trance he had put her in when Lydia clapped her hands. Looking around, she could see their small party beginning to split up - Jane and Mr. Bingley were walking towards the center of town, Lydia and Kitty were going to look at ribbons, and, perhaps by divine intervention, Mary and Mr. Collins were heading into the music shop. 

Elizabeth was alone with Mr. Darcy. 

“It seems we’ve been abandoned, Mr. Darcy,” she joked, determined to stop standing in silence like an imbecile. 

“It appears so. Terribly rude of them,” he replied, chuckling lightly. “I am in need of more reading material. Would you like to accompany me to the book shop? I could use your expertise.” 

“My expertise,” Elizabeth laughed, surprised by the ease of conversation. “I should be very happy to, though I fear you will be disappointed.” 

“I doubt that very much,” he responded in earnest, holding his arm out. 

Elizabeth shyly took it, and the two made the short walk in comfortable silence. She watched Mr. Darcy out of the corner of her eye and was pleased to find him in a jovial mood. This certainly wasn’t the cold, haughty man she’d met at the Meryton Assembly. No,  _ this _ Mr. Darcy looked quite content. A small part of her hoped it was because he was with her.

The bell chimed as they entered, Mr. Darcy holding the door open. The shopkeep greeted the pair with a warm smile, and Elizabeth was suddenly grateful to be in a familiar environment. 

“Now then,” Darcy stated, glancing over the shelves, “where shall we begin?” 

“Well,” Elizabeth responded, “we’ve already established that you’re a voracious reader of romance. Why not begin there?” She was startled by her boldness and even more startled by Mr. Darcy’s laugh. 

“I deserved that,” he admitted, grinning widely. “Though I fear any romantic novel I bring home will be immediately purloined by my sister.”

“Does she enjoy the genre as much as her brother?”

“More so, if you can believe it. I can scarcely get her to read anything else.” 

Elizabeth smiled up at the man. “Consider yourself lucky, Mr. Darcy, for I can seldom persuade Lydia to pick up any type of book.” 

The pair wandered blithely between the shelves, discussing books they had read, books they hadn’t read, and books they wished to read. Elizabeth was surprised by the diversity of Mr. Darcy’s literary taste and soon found herself eager to ask for his recommendations, as well as provide her own. They perused the fiction section, talking enthusiastically about titles such as  _ Gulliver’s Travels  _ and  _ Robinson Crusoe _ until a most unwelcome interruption burst through the door. 

“Ah, Cousin Elizabeth!” Mr. Collins accosted, moving to her side. “Why did you not follow Cousin Mary and me into the music shop?” 

“The fault is mine,” Mr. Darcy responded. “I wished to consult Miss Elizabeth on literature.” 

Lizzy smiled gratefully at him before it occurred to her that she ought to make an introduction. “Mr. Darcy, may I introduce our cousin, Mr. Collins. Mr. Collins, this is Mr. Darcy. He is currently residing at Netherfield with Mr. Bingley.”

Darcy bowed politely, while Mr. Collins only stared in amazement at the man. Elizabeth glanced questioningly at Mr. Darcy, who she found looking equally befuddled. 

“Sir,” Mr. Collins finally spoke, “Am I to understand you to be the nephew of my noble patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh?”

Lizzy struggled to conceal her laughter at the look of abject horror on Mr. Darcy’s face. He sent her a pleading glance, but Elizabeth only grinned apologetically, knowing full-well that nothing would dissuade her cousin now. 

Composing himself, Mr. Darcy curtly responded, “I am indeed.” 

“Oh, what good fortune!” Mr. Collins exclaimed, looking up at the taller man in what Lizzy could only describe as unwarranted reverence. “I am pleased to inform you that your aunt was in the best of health last I saw her, as was your betrothed.” 

Betrothed?

Elizabeth’s stomach dropped - it was her turn to be horrified. Was Mr. Darcy engaged? Surely, he could not be...he had kissed her...but what else could Mr. Collins mean? Her cousin was obviously well-acquainted with Mr. Darcy’s family. If there was an engagement, he would undoubtedly know about it. And what reason would he have to make such a thing up? Lizzy’s mind whirled, and her throat tightened. The thought of Mr. Darcy’s engagement filled her with an overwhelming, inexplicable sense of dread. Why had the news affected her? Why did she care? Why did she feel...sad? Against her will, Elizabeth glanced towards Darcy and was surprised to find him already looking at her in consternation. His eyes were almost beseeching, but for what, she knew not. 

Quite suddenly, his jaw clenched, and he turned toward Mr. Collins, sporting a wholly different demeanor. Now, he looked splenetic, glowering at the shorter man. Even Mr. Collins took notice of the change, and he quailed, clearly expecting a different reaction.

“I am not engaged, nor have I ever been,” Mr. Darcy replied coldly.

“I-I...There must be some mistake,” Mr. Collins sputtered. “My noble patroness has informed me of your impending marriage to Miss de Bourgh.” 

“My aunt may wish for the union, but neither of the involved parties share that sentiment. There has never been an agreement between my cousin and I, and there certainly never shall be.”

Mr. Collins appeared aghast by Mr. Darcy’s proclamation and floundered, unsure how to respond. On a normal occasion, Elizabeth would have been diverted by the scene. Now, however, she only felt enervated, consumed by the desire to make a hasty retreat. 

“Pray, excuse me. I need some air,” she said softly. She curtsied and exited the shop before either man could object. 

Elizabeth walked slowly towards Longbourn, the whole ordeal having left her oddly drained of her usual vivacity. She knew the wisest course of action would have been seeking out one of her sisters before leaving town, but the idea was unappealing. Jane would worry, Mary would pry, and Kitty and Lydia would only serve to tire Lizzy further. Her inability to laugh at the situation is what perturbed Lizzy the most. Objectively, she knew the situation should have been amusing, but she simply could not think it so. For the first time since Netherfield, Elizabeth found herself unable to escape her feelings, unable to disregard them. She didn’t want Mr. Darcy to be engaged. The idea of him with someone else dismayed her more than she cared to admit. 

“Miss Elizabeth!”

Elizabeth started at the voice, for she knew who it belonged to. She wanted to ask him about Mr. Collins’ words, to confirm that they were, in fact, erroneous, but she knew not how to broach the subject. Girding herself for an awkward conversation, Lizzy turned to Mr. Darcy and attempted to force a smile. However, it soon became apparent that  _ she  _ wouldn’t have to start the conversation. 

“Are you alright?” he asked, face marked with apprehension. 

Elizabeth could not help but be touched by his obvious concern. “I am, thank you. I felt a bit faint, but it has passed.” 

“I am not engaged,” Darcy blurted out, unwilling to wait. “My aunt wishes to connect our houses, to tie herself to my fortune. My cousin and I agreed long ago that we would never consent to such an arrangement.” 

“Why ever not?” Elizabeth questioned. “It would certainly be a beneficial marriage, if  _ my _ cousin is to be believed.” She attempted to soften the question with a joke, both for her sake and for Mr. Darcy’s, but the effort was futile - again, she could not find a way to laugh at the situation.

Mr. Darcy regarded her for a moment before stepping closer. As he reached for her hands, Elizabeth’s mind flashed back to their meeting in the library. His proximity then had left her bereft of cohesive thought, and it was undoubtedly having that same effect now. The warmth of Darcy’s hands was the only thing keeping Elizabeth grounded. 

“Only the deepest love will induce me into matrimony,” he explained, tenderly gazing into her eyes. “My intended cousin, Anne, has been in love with our other cousin, Richard, for many years now. As soon as my aunt has passed, they will marry.”

“And you?” Elizabeth asked, incapable of holding her tongue any longer.

“I...I have come to love another.” 

Elizabeth’s knees trembled as he squeezed her hands. Of course, he had implied it in the library, but to hear him say it…

“Lizzy!”

At the sound of her youngest sister’s shrill cry, Elizabeth pried her hands away from Mr. Darcy’s, putting more distance between them. Should Lydia discover them in such a position, their mother would be informed, and Lizzy would never again know peace at Longbourn. She sent Mr. Darcy, who looked equal parts disheartened and amused, a contrite look. 

“Lizzy!” Lydia shouted again, coming into view, followed by Bingley, Mr. Collins, and the rest of her sisters. “We could not find you!”

“I’m sorry,” she responded, “I was walking with Mr. Darcy.”

“Why? He’s so dull.”

“Lydia!” Elizabeth scolded, heartily ashamed of her sister’s behavior. She went to admonish the girl further but was interrupted by a surprising source. 

“That’s quite alright, Miss Elizabeth,” Mr. Darcy intervened, a mischievous gleam in his eye. “She is right - I am a terrible bore.” 

Elizabeth giggled and bit her lip as she took his arm, quite content to forget her sister’s words and walk back to Longbourn at his side. As soon as the pair had fallen into place with the rest of the party - and said party’s attention was redirected elsewhere - Darcy turned to her with a broad grin and winked, his countenance filled with good-humor. Elizabeth could not fight back the blush that threatened to overtake her features, but she smiled nonetheless.

They arrived altogether too quickly to their destination, and Elizabeth found herself loathe to be parted from such pleasant company. Therefore, she was quite pleased when her beaming mother scurried out the door. 

“Mr. Bingley,” the matron greeted, “how wonderful it is to see you! Do come in and take tea with us!”

“I thank you, Mrs. Bennet. Darcy and I would be delighted.” 

Mrs. Bennet fixed her now uninterested gaze on the taller gentleman. “Oh, yes, I suppose he can come, too.” 

Elizabeth’s cheeks heated once again, but this time, out of humiliation. She knew her mother disliked Mr. Darcy, but to greet a guest so coldly was unacceptable. As if reading her thoughts, Darcy gently squeezed the hand on his arm and smiled down at her. That act alone quickly improved her mood. She still found her mother’s behavior inadmissible, of course, but if Mr. Darcy had not taken offense, neither would she. 

In the drawing-room, Darcy and Elizabeth happily situated themselves in the two chairs by the fireplace, the moderate distance from everyone else allowing for a more private conversation. It suddenly struck Elizabeth how very odd it was that Mr. Collins hadn’t attempted to speak with her since the episode in the bookshop. She looked around the room, eventually finding the parson moping in the corner. He had the look of a scolded child about him, and Elizabeth wondered what had transpired between him and Mr. Darcy that had left him so in so petulant a state.

She returned her focus to Mr. Darcy, who was smiling warmly at her. At his kind look, an overwhelming sense of guilt washed over her. He had been treated abominably by her family, and he deserved none of it. 

“I must apologize for my family’s behavior towards you,” she spoke quietly. “I fear my early contempt has poisoned their opinions.” 

“You need not apologize, Elizabeth. The goal of my behavior had been to engender such reactions.”

Elizabeth’s face flushed at the use of her Christian name, and she looked down. “It is still unfair. You are a good man.”

“They do not know that. In their eyes, I’m still the proud, insufferable man who insulted you so ungraciously at our first meeting. My family’s strategy comes with the risk of being disliked by many.” 

“But you do not deserve it,” Elizabeth protested. 

“I assure you, the positives far outweigh the negatives. I have met everyone I truly care about in this fashion.”

Elizabeth could not contain her smile at Mr. Darcy’s words. He truly was the best man she knew. Kind, intelligent, humorous - he was everything she admired in people. What she had done to deserve the affection of such a man, Elizabeth did not know - she could only be exceedingly grateful for whatever it was. Much like it had done to Darcy, the realization struck Elizabeth so quickly and with such force as to completely undo her.

She loved Mr. Darcy. 

Yes, this was definitely love. It could be nothing else. She wanted to spend the rest of her life by his side. She wanted him to be the first thing she saw when she woke up in the morning and the last thing she saw when she fell asleep at night. 

The idea, the feeling, was so intense, Elizabeth could not help but send a blinding smile toward the man who had won her heart. Oh, if only they were alone! If only she could tell him here and now all she had just discovered within herself! But they were not alone, so she had to settle for conveying her feelings through her smile, through her eyes. Elizabeth did not know if Mr. Darcy completely understood all she was trying to say, but he  _ did  _ return her look with equal ardor, and her heart soared.

“Bingley is to host a ball in only one week’s time. We were coming here to invite you.” Darcy explained quietly, his gaze more affectionate than Elizabeth could sensibly handle. “Would you do me the honor of dancing the first set with me?”

There was only one reply Elizabeth could give to the man she loved. 

“Yes.”


	9. Chapter 9

Fitzwilliam Darcy anxiously paced the floor of his chambers at Netherfield, completely lost in thought. The estate could crumble to dust around him, and he would pay it no heed. No, his thoughts were occupied by Elizabeth Bennet - there was little room for anything else. He would see her tonight, and the mere thought of it left his heart fit to burst. What little patience he had left had been irrevocably destroyed after their meeting in Meryton and subsequent tête-à-tête at Longbourn. 

That smile...it had to have meant something. It looked so...loving. Dare he hope that she had come to love him? Dare he hope that she returned his feelings? Perhaps he would know now, had Miss Lydia not interrupted them. That entire evening had been agonizing for Darcy. The world seemed determined to come between him and his Elizabeth - Miss Lydia, Mrs. Bennet, Mr. Collins…

Mr. Collins! What an odious, repugnant toad of a man! He was just the sort of person Darcy expected his aunt to employ - the obnoxious parson clearly worshipped her, and that was Lady Catherine’s most desired trait in those around her. Anyone who pandered and fawned would earn the Lady’s condescension. And how dare his aunt spread the rumor of his engagement to Anne! Both he and his cousin had told her countless times that the union would never come to be, but the old woman refused to listen. Every Easter, Darcy was subject to Lady Catherine’s grievances. He could tolerate them well enough, so long as they stayed within the family, though it was now clear that his aunt was treating the matter with little discretion. Why he ever believed her capable of anything more, Darcy did not know. 

Only one good thing had come from Mr. Collins...

Hope. 

Yes, when Darcy witnessed how distraught Elizabeth had become at the news of his supposed engagement, he was filled with hope. Surely, she would not have had such a violent reaction if she did not feel something for him. Darcy desperately wanted to ask after her feelings, to ask if she truly loved him. He could have sworn that she was trying to tell him something at Longbourn - she had such a look upon her face. God, how he wished they had been alone! How he longed to kiss her! To hold her! Darcy couldn’t handle it any longer. He did not want to hide his feelings. He was exhausted of all patience, and he feared he would not be able to contain himself upon seeing Elizabeth tonight. Fitzwilliam Darcy was a man violently in love, and he could express himself as nothing but that. 

“You are going to completely wear out the carpet at this rate, Darce.”

Darcy started at the voice and whipped around to find a very amused Mr. Bingley. Composing himself, he asked, “How long have you been standing there?”

“Oh, about two minutes. I said your name at least four times,” Bingley smiled knowingly. “Were you thinking about a pair of fine eyes?”

Darcy coloured and turned to look in the mirror, straightening his cravat. His poor valet had been forced to change his outfit a total of three times until Darcy was satisfied. How was he going to get through the evening?

“The guests will arrive soon,” Bingley informed, prompting Darcy to look at the clock. “You are dancing the first with Miss Elizabeth, are you not?”

“I am,” the taller man replied, turning back to the mirror. He saw Charles approaching him in the reflection.

“Calm yourself, man,” the ginger counseled, placing a hand on Darcy’s shoulder. “I saw the way she looked at you at Longbourn. You have nothing to worry about.” 

The younger man’s words placated Darcy, who let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in. Elizabeth was easy to talk to - she made him feel comfortable. He could do this. With a nod, the two men exited the room and joined Caroline and the Hursts at the entryway, ready to receive their guests.

“You look remarkably well, Mr. Darcy,” Miss Bingley complimented, fluttering her eyes in a manner Darcy found repulsing. 

“I thank you, madame.”

“I can not believe Charles agreed to host a ball here! As if we aren’t already forced into such miserable company enough!” 

Darcy bit his tongue at the insipid woman’s remark. He had known Caroline long enough to know that any reply would only encourage further conversation, which is precisely what Darcy wished to avoid. 

The entrance of Netherfield was soon crowded with people, all of whom took their sweet time down the receiving line. Darcy watched in amusement as Bingley tried to be an attentive host - anyone who knew the man would have been able to see his eager anticipation of the arrival of his angel. Darcy would be more inclined to tease his friend had  _ he _ not also been staring at the door, awaiting the arrival of a particular family. He had hoped that the Bennets would be amongst the first in the door, as they were the closest. However, he imagined that preparing for a ball took quite some time in a family of five daughters. 

Thankfully, soon enough, Darcy could hear the raucous voice of Mrs. Bennet. He stood up straighter as the family entered, looking for his Elizabeth. He finally spotted her toward the back of the group, arm-in-arm with Miss Bennet. 

And, dear God, she looked beautiful. 

Her hair was twirled up into a bun, her face still framed by those delightful dark curls. In her hair were small, white flowers, which Darcy though suited his wood nymph perfectly. Her white dress was most becoming, complimenting her figure in all the best ways. She looked more handsome than any woman he’d ever seen in London. 

Darcy watched on with bated breath as Elizabeth scanned the crowd as if she were looking for someone. When their eyes finally met, her face broke out into a blinding smile. 

She had been looking for  _ him _ . 

Darcy approached the enchanting woman and bowed. “You look lovely, Miss Elizabeth,” he whispered, delighting in the way her cheeks reddened. 

“Thank you, Mr. Darcy,” she responded somewhat breathlessly, a bright smile still adorning her face. “Jane and I wanted to arrive sooner, but I fear Lydia and Kitty are indecisive when it comes to gowns and ribbons.”

“Do not concern yourself. We are now closer to our dance.” 

“I have yet to see you dance, Mr. Darcy. How am I to know if you are any good?” Elizabeth teased. 

Darcy laughed, looking down at the woman in admiration. “I suppose you will have to wait and see. I hope I do not disappoint you.”

“I doubt you could disappoint me, even if you tried.” 

His heart stopped at her words and the earnest look on her face as she said them. Darcy wasn’t sure how long they stood there, simply staring at each other. Once again, there was so much to be said, so much to be felt - and his tongue was failing him. Every time he believed himself ready to say something, Elizabeth would smile, and he would lose the words. 

“I believe it’s almost time for our dance,” she said gently. 

Darcy looked about the room and saw that people were, indeed, beginning to move to their positions for the first set. He guided Elizabeth to the dance floor, relishing in the warmth of her hand on his arm. As the music started, and the pair began the intricate movements, Darcy could do no more than look at the vision in front of him. The rest of the world, if it even still existed, faded away, and the only thing he could see was Elizabeth. Darcy decided that attending balls would not be so bad if he had his Lizzy by his side - if she were his wife, he could dance every dance with her and would never be forced into a lone corner again. How interesting she would make even the dullest of gatherings! Yes, he could see them doing this for the rest of their lives. 

“I must inform you, Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth said quietly, “that you are, in fact, an excellent dancer.” 

Darcy smiled. “I am glad you approve, Miss Elizabeth. I don’t dance nearly enough.”

“Why ever not?”

“I have never before had the right partner.”

Elizabeth’s face flushed again, but she did not look down. No, she looked him right in the eyes and smiled. “We ought to fix that. Any suggestions?”

Had they not been in the middle of a dance, Darcy would have kissed her then and there. He contented himself with pulling her closer than the dance demanded every time they met. It wasn’t nearly enough for him, but it was the best he could do at present. 

“I do, in fact, have a suggestion,” he finally responded, “but I fear the ball-room floor is a poor place to enlighten you.” 

“Shall we wait until tomorrow?” Elizabeth asked, the mirth in her eyes betraying her innocent smile. 

The mere idea of waiting was more than he could bear. “Have mercy on me, Elizabeth,” Darcy whispered. 

“The library, then? After the dance?”

“Perfect.”

The rest of the set was performed in silence, both parties too happy to do anything but smile at each other. When the music finally ceased, Darcy found himself unwilling to let go of Elizabeth’s hand. He led her off the dance floor and analyzed the room - Mr. Bennet was sitting near the punch bowl, Mrs. Bennet was gossiping with the other matrons, Mr. Collins was dancing with Miss Lucas, Miss Bennet was dancing with Charles, Miss Mary was staring in envy at the young girl on the pianoforte, Miss Kitty and Miss Lydia were flirting with the officers, and Caroline and the Hursts were begrudgingly attending to their guests. No one was watching Darcy and Elizabeth. 

Perfect. 

The pair quickly made for the library, and Darcy was certain that no one had noticed them. He closed the door and turned to Elizabeth, who was simply smiling up at him. Before he could even organize his thoughts, she reached out and cupped his face in her warm, soft hands. 

“Now, what was your suggestion? For I love you more than anything in this world, and I dearly wish to help you,” she admitted softly, her gaze tender and affectionate. 

Darcy could only lean down and kiss her in response. 

He had thought that their first kiss was passionate, but he could now see that he was mistaken -  _ this  _ was passionate. Elizabeth responded immediately this time, kissing him back with equal ardor. Darcy could feel everything - her hands on his face, her nose on his cheek, her body pressed deliciously against his - all of it. And, Lord, did it feel good. She was so warm against him, her mere presence fulfilling. How had he lived eight and twenty years without her kisses? How had he lived so long without  _ her _ ? 

Much like their first kiss, only a need for air could separate them. Darcy rested his forehead against hers, and they simply stood there, drinking each other in. 

Elizabeth broke the silence, voice light, having finally regained her teasing mien. “As wonderful as that was, I fear it was not a suggestion.”

Darcy broke out into laughter, holding his Elizabeth tighter. He looked down at her and pressed a gentle kiss to the tip of her nose, delighting in her small giggle. He could not hold back the question any longer. 

And, finally, he had no reason to. 

“Elizabeth Bennet, will you marry me?”

“Yes!”

With her answer, she jumped into his arms, and he swung her around, both lost in perfect happiness. 

She was finally his. 

He was finally hers. 

Darcy remembered the stories his grandfather and father used to tell him about their proposals. The two men would playfully argue about who had been the happiest when they were finally accepted by their wives. His grandfather would say that  _ his _ wife made him the happiest man in the world. His father, meanwhile, insisted that the happiness he felt when Anne said yes far outweighed that of his grandfather’s. Standing here now, his darling Elizabeth in his arms, Darcy felt confident that he had them both beat - no man had ever been, or will ever be, as happy as him.

“What are you thinking about?” Elizabeth asked him.

“How unbelievably grateful I am to my father and grandfather,” he answered, stroking her cheek. “For they have brought me to you, my dearest, loveliest Elizabeth.” 

“I love you, Fitzwilliam Darcy.”

“And I love you, Elizabeth Bennet.”

Darcy sprinkled kisses all over her face, relishing in every sound she made. He moved down to her lips again, and the two of them stood there, locked in a warm embrace, for more time than either was aware of. They didn’t care how much time passed. They didn’t care who noticed they were gone - they were simply content to be together. When Fitzwilliam Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet finally did leave the library, they did so hand-in-hand. 

And neither of them would ever let go. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I hope you all enjoyed my little story! I certainly had fun writing it!
> 
> I am already working on another, longer Pride & Prejudice fanfiction, so look out for that. I don’t like posting by chapter, though, so I will post the story when it is completely done. 
> 
> Again, thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it! :)


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